When the Mirror Lies: Learning to See Your Body Through Kinder Eyes

The Telehealth therapy room is a quiet doorway into people’s inner worlds. It’s where stories unravel and gently come back together. On this particular day, a client sat across from me, eyes lowered, describing how deeply she disliked the way she looked.

Sometimes our inner critic speaks so loudly that it becomes the only voice we hear. 

Her voice was steady, but the pain underneath was unmistakable. She listed flaw after flaw, each one spoken like a practiced line in a script she knew by heart.

As she talked, I found myself thinking something I didn’t say out loud:

She looks perfect.

And then, another truth surfaced—one I rarely acknowledge out loud even to myself:

At least she doesn’t have the scar I carry from cancer surgery.

That thought startled me a bit. Therapists are trained to stay with the client’s experience, not drift into our own. But sometimes, their stories brush up against our own humanity. Sometimes, they hold a mirror to the parts we’re still learning to accept.

So I didn’t tell her any of that.Instead, I met her eyes and asked gently:

“What are you grateful for about your body?”

The Pause That Changed Everything

She blinked, as if no one had ever asked her that before. And maybe no one had.

The room grew quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like something shifting—like when dust hangs in a sunbeam and everything slows down for a moment.

Then she whispered:

“I guess… I’m grateful that my body got me through this week.”

Not a grand statement. Not a revelation. But it was honest.

And that honesty opened a door.

How Gratitude Softens the Inner Critic

Most of us grow up fluent in self-criticism. Gratitude feels like a language we barely speak. Yet it does something powerful:

1. It interrupts the cycle of harsh self-talk.

2. It reminds us that our bodies do far more than we give them credit for.

3. It creates a small gap between who we are and what we think we “should” be.

   
   

In that small gap, compassion can breathe.

The Stories Our Bodies Carry

Sitting there with her, I became quietly aware of my own scar that changed the way I see myself on certain days. It’s a reminder of cancer, of survival, of the ways my body has fought for me even when I was furious at it. And on many days, I barely notice it at all… until someone asks about it, and suddenly that part of my story is back in the room with me.

Sometimes our inner critic speaks so loudly that it becomes the only voice we hear.  It tells us we are not enough, not thin enough, not smooth enough, not perfect enough. It convinces us that our worth is tied entirely to how we look rather than who we are. And on days when that voice feels especially sharp, it can be hard to remember that our bodies are more than surfaces as they are homes, histories, and witnesses to everything we’ve survived. We all have something like that!

But here’s the truth:

Our bodies tell stories. Not all of them are pretty, but all of them are ours.

Three Simple Ways to Practice Body Gratitude

These small steps can help shift perspective when the inner critic gets too loud:

• Notice one thing your body helped you do today—something ordinary counts.

• Appreciate a quality unrelated to appearance (your stamina, your healing, your strength).

• Place a hand on a part of your body you usually criticize and simply say, “Thank you.”

  
  

At first, this may feel unfamiliar or even uncomfortable. That’s normal. We’re not taught to speak to ourselves with kindness; many of us learned to measure our worth through comparison, perfectionism, or the expectations of others.

And if even that feels foreign? That’s okay. Gratitude is a muscle; it strengthens slowly.

Some days it may tremble under old stories. Other days it may surprise you with how steady, grounded, and compassionate it can feel. The point isn’t to silence the inner critic perfectly—it’s simply to begin creating space for a kinder voice to coexist.

Small shifts become patterns. Patterns become habits. And habits slowly become healing.

A Final Reflection

As my client left the session that day, she seemed just a little lighter. Not transformed. Not suddenly confident. Just… softer with herself.

And I realized something too:

Sometimes we teach our clients what we’re still learning ourselves.

Bodies are not meant to be perfect. They’re meant to carry us through pain, through joy, through survival, and through everyday life.

And maybe the first step toward loving them isn’t praise, or positivity, or pretending. Maybe it’s simply pausing long enough to ask:

“What are you grateful for about your body?”

@ihealandgrow